


To Serve and Protect

by Heather_Night



Series: To Serve and Protect [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fainting, Future Fic, Gen, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, Law Enforcement, Needles, POV Outsider, Post-Canon, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 14:10:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13009500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heather_Night/pseuds/Heather_Night
Summary: Eric returned to the Jeep.  The sunglasses were nagging at him, as was the whole adhering perfectly to the speed limit thing.  Impaired drivers tended to do these things.  "Sir, could you please remove your sunglasses?"The guy shrugged before pulling them off and throwing them on the dashboard.  He winced as he turned back toward Eric.Shit.“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to get out of the car.”  Eric couldn’t even tell what the guy’s natural eye color was because his pupils had run amok, eating up all of the color.  There was no way this was natural though, Eric could tell that much.





	To Serve and Protect

**Author's Note:**

> There are three stories in this mini 'verse and the first is told from an outsider point of view. If you decide to give the 'verse a try, there will be a payoff in terms of a slow burn relationship.
> 
> The prompt for this story was Needles. I'm sure some of the tags already make some sense.

Eric Morales wasn't particularly looking forward to heading back to the station and taking his shift on the front desk but his stint manning the radar gun out on Highway 20 hadn't been particularly stimulating either.

In fact working for Red Oak Police Department wasn’t stimulating. He’d only been there for one year but he was thinking of exploring other options. He wasn’t an adrenaline junkie by any means but he wanted to help. He wanted to make a difference.

In the midst of packing his gear away, a sky blue Jeep caught his attention. Going through the motions by rote, his radar gun showed 55 mph right on the dot. That was actually a red flag because no one did exactly the speed limit on this stretch of road. 

Eric pulled out and followed the Jeep. Everything seemed fine except the driver was being a little too careful—he or she stayed right in the middle of the lane and the speed never varied. It seemed counterintuitive since getting drivers to comply with the law was the goal but that kind of behavior was actually another red flag.

The Jeep tapped its brakes and Eric noted the right taillight was out. That was enough to make a stop.

He hit his lights and radioed in his position. The Jeep pulled over to the side of the road. Eric grabbed his traffic ticket clipboard and stepped out.

A young man, maybe a few years younger than Eric, was the sole occupant of the Jeep. The most striking feature on the guy was the pair of large, black oval sunglasses perched on his face. Who did this guy think he was, Jackie O?

Eric cleared his throat. "Driver's license, registration and proof of insurance please."

"Here you go, officer." The guy handed all three requested items without having to dig anything out of the glove box or fumbling in his wallet. Curious.

"Sit tight and I'll be right back," Eric announced. Returning to his squad car, a black and white Ford Crown Victoria that actually looked pretty sharp in his opinion, Eric called in the DL and checked the insurance and registration. Everything was in order except Eric didn't think he could pronounce the guy's first name without massacring it. 

Eric returned to the Jeep. The sunglasses were nagging at him, as was the whole adhering perfectly to the speed limit thing. Impaired drivers tended to do these things. "Sir, could you please remove your sunglasses?"

The guy shrugged before pulling them off and throwing them on the dashboard. He winced as he turned back toward Eric.

Shit.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to get out of the car.” Eric couldn’t even tell what the guy’s natural eye color was because his pupils had run amok, eating up all of the color. There was no way this was natural though, Eric could tell that much.

With a sigh, the guy complied. He kept his hands up and visible, which Eric appreciated. Perhaps he’d been through this a time or two…or more. Only his record online hadn’t indicated anything.

The guy, Stilinski according to his Driver’s License, stumbled as he stepped out of the vehicle.

Eric suppressed the eye roll threatening to emerge along with a sigh. “I think we’re going to just skip the Field Sobriety Test portion of the program and move along to the breathalyzer.”

Stilinski frowned. “I actually had my eyes dilated a few hours ago. Really, I haven’t been drinking.”

“Are you refusing to comply with my request?” Eric felt his eyebrows shooting up high on his forehead. Stilinski had seemed like a model citizen up until now but Eric thought that was about to change.

“Yes?” Stilinski’s voice rose at the end of the sentence leading Eric to believe he didn’t know what he was saying. Looking into his black, soulless eyes was also creeping him out.

It was getting more and more difficult not to sigh. “Yes, you’re refusing or yes you’ll submit to the breathalyzer?”

“I actually don’t have to submit to any PAS tests.” Stilinski crinkled his nose up. He was a mix of non-threatening and very scary between his mannerisms and enlarged pupils.

He’s also used the abbreviation for preliminary alcohol screening correctly so Eric knew the guy was somehow affiliated with law enforcement although these days that could just mean he read everything he could online.

“So you’re declining.” Eric wasn’t sure if this was any better then being stuck on front desk duty. This guy was giving him a headache.

“On the advice of counsel, I choose to exercise my 5th Amendment Right and remain silent.” Stilinski recited the words, his demeanor blasé. 

This guy had definitely been through this routine before.

“Then consider yourself under arrest.” Eric proceeded to Mirandize the guy.

Stilinski remained compliant although his lips were pursed and he was squinting heavily.

“Do you have any weapons or anything on your person that may hurt me?” Eric asked. He was going to have to pat down the suspect and he didn’t want to get jabbed by any needles. He didn’t smell alcohol on the guy but he was definitely impaired. Heroin or maybe crack?

“No, sir.” At least the guy was respectful and not a punk.

Eric patted down the guy only pausing when he felt something in the front right pocket. He pulled out a vial and held it up. “What is this?”

Stilinski chewed on his lip. 

A mosquito buzzed by Eric’s ear and he swatted at it out of habit. 

The guy nodded almost as if to himself. “Insect repellant.”

The handcuffs came out and Eric had the driver stowed in the back of his Ford without incident. The ride back to the police station was quiet save for Eric updating his status.

Processing at the station went smoothly and Stilinski didn’t even grumble when his personal belongings were removed and bagged. He tolerated everything as if he’d been there, done that and bought the t-shirt.

Sgt. Jeffries beckoned them into the little room where the blood test kit was kept. Jeffries was a stickler for the rules and he liked to bark but Eric thought he was a pretty fair shift boss. He’d been a paramedic in the Gulf War so Eric figured the sergeant was in his mid to late 40s although he wasn’t stupid enough to ask the man; Jeffries didn’t tolerate personal talk.

“Christ on a cracker, those have got to be the biggest pupils I’ve ever seen. There’s no way this a-hole is going to be under the legal limit.” Jeffries grumbled beneath his breath loud enough for Eric to hear him. If Stilinski heard him he kept his mouth shut.

Jeffries had Stilinski plunk down on a chair. The sergeant pulled on a pair of gloves, snapping them threateningly, and then he swabbed the quaking arm with an alcohol wipe. Stilinski’s eyebrows shot up in alarm and he gave Eric a panicky look as Jeffries muttered, “Hmm, now, what do I do next?”

The guy’s respirations picked up speed and his face become flushed. “Um, I don’t really do well with needles.”

“Don’t look then.” Jeffries was typically a no nonsense kind of guy but he was actually baiting Stilinski and Stilinski wasn’t immune.

Without giving the guy any warning, Jeffries sunk the needle into his arm.

Eric cleared his throat a bit nervously. “Don’t you usually use a tourniquet tie?”

Jeffries glared. “I think I know when I’ve got a good vein or not.”

The flushed skin paled significantly in front of Eric’s gaze. Stilinski kept his face averted so he couldn’t see what Jeffries was doing. This was actually a good thing because his sergeant was digging the needle around, trying to draw blood.

“Sarge, maybe you ought to—”

Jeffries cut him off. “Stow it, Morales. I’ve got this.”

Stilinski turned his head back. “Are we done?”

The guy’s eyes widened as he observed the needle sticking out of his arm and no blood filling the vial. 

The black eyes rolled back into his head. 

Between one blink and the next, Stilinski flopped off of the chair, ripping his arm out of Jeffries’s hold, landing on the floor in a jumble of limbs. He was sprawled on his back, breathing but not conscious.

Seeing the almost black eyes had been creepy enough but seeing whites through partially opened eyes was no treat either.

“Damn it, Morales, grab me some supplies!” Jeffries never raised his voice.

Eric’s attention shifted from Stilinski’s creep-tastic eyes to where Jeffries was trying to staunch the light but steady flow of blood from the wound in his arm. 

Snapping to, Eric gathered supplies and handed them to his sergeant. “Do I need to call for medical assistance?”

Jeffries tone was gruff. “God damn it, yes.” 

Eric summoned the paramedics from the firehouse next door but then returned to the little room where Jeffries was cussing beneath his breath, packing away supplies. “That’s never happened to me before.”

Stilinski moaned and his eyelids fluttered. The sight of Jeffries, leaning over him, startled the guy and he yelped.

“I can wait here if you want to show the guys back.” Eric made the offer, expecting to be brushed off, but Jeffries accepted.

_To Protect and Serve_ was more than just a motto to Eric. He’d gotten his degree in criminal justice but he didn’t want to just put away bad guys; he wanted to keep people safe.

“Hey, you’re going to be okay.” Here was Eric’s chance to put the motto into effect.

The guy flopped an arm over his heads. “I passed out.”

“Um, yeah. We’re going to get you checked out, make sure you didn’t get hurt.” Eric crouched down next to the guy, using his soft voice.

Stilinski peeked from beneath his arm. At least this time he didn’t violently startle.

This was not the excitement Eric craved. He’d been so convinced the guy before him was operating a vehicle while intoxicated and now that guy lay incapacitated on the floor and it was a direct result of his actions.

Two paramedics quickly showed up, a perk of being in the next building over. Jerry and Joe were good guys and Eric trusted them both. They quickly got down to the business of evaluating their patient. 

“What the hell happened to his arm?” Joe asked. Eric expected Jeffries, hovering in the hallway, to erupt into a tirade but he kept his peace. 

Jerry evaluated the groggy man for signs of concussion or other injury. 

Within twenty minutes Stilinski’s arm was bandaged, Joe had collected his blood sample, and he was fully conscious again.

Jerry, the more talkative of the paramedics, engaged Stilinski in conversation. “So did you have a procedure done on your eyes?”

“The ophthalmologist had to give me double the dose of whatever those drops are to dilate them. Fortunately nothing’s wrong with my eyes,” Stilinski paused, before continuing beneath his breath, “although I’m never going to live this down.”

Guilt flooded Eric. He’d felt certain he’d made a legitimate OWI stop what with Stilinski’s dilated pupils, stumbling and strict adherence to the laws of the road had seemed to support his suspicions. It would be 4-6 weeks before he had the results of the blood test back but now Eric thought the guy had been telling the truth and he wasn’t impaired; he was just really unlucky.

Fortunately Stilinski hadn’t concussed himself when he’d passed out and his arm didn’t require stitches. That was a comfort to Eric but he didn’t think Stilinski would agree.

The paramedics took off after wishing Stiles luck and Jeffries made himself scarce.

Referring to the guy as Stilinski, even in his head, seemed in poor taste. He’d watched as the guy impersonated a landed fish, or maybe a dead one with the way his eyes had remained half open, so there was some sort of familiarity there. “So, how do you pronounce your first name?”

The other man frowned and Eric thought he was going to be ignored. Then he shrugged. “You don’t. Call me Stiles. When can I get out of here?”

Eric nodded. “Mr. Stilinski, Stiles, I’m sorry this happened but I can’t in good conscience let you drive in your current condition.”

“Which condition would that be? My dilated eyes or post-faint?” When Eric opened his mouth to respond, the other guy waved him off. “Never mind, I don’t want to know.”

“Can someone come get you? I’d feel better if I could release you into someone else’s custody.” Eric would actually feel better if Stiles was admitted to the hospital but he’d decline the invitation from the paramedics.

Stiles yelped. “Wait, am I still under arrest?”

“No, of course not.” Eric withdrew his department issue cell phone and handed it over. “I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

Stiles stared at the phone before dialing a number. The conversation was brief and it sounded like someone named Derek was willing to pick him up.

“Hang up!” Jeffries’s voice boomed from the doorway.

The other man quickly said goodbye and disconnected the call, looking panicked again. “What did I do?”

“You ought to be laying down. Can’t have you passing out on me twice.” Jeffries’s tone was still brusque but Eric thought his boss was embarrassed. There seemed to be a lot of that going around.

Stiles’s blushed and although it was nice to see the unhealthy pallor replaced with color the guy seemed miserable. 

“I’ll take care of him, Sarge.” Eric was torn between offering the man a couch to lay on or retreating to the front desk. Staying with Stiles won out.

After Jeffries departed the room, Stiles made eye contact. Yep, those eyes were still freaky. “Is there somewhere else I could wait for my friend?”

“I think an interview room is open. Do you need me to get a wheelchair?” Eric just wanted the guy safe. His paper work was increasing with every interaction they had with someone else and at this rate, Eric would never be able to clock out.

Stiles closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “No. I’m okay.”

The guy wobbled a bit upon standing and Eric kept close in case he swooned again but they slowly made it to Interview Room 2 without incident. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No, thanks.” Stiles slumped into a chair.

He really didn’t want to leave the guy alone but his hovering wasn’t helping any. He also wanted to grab the form releasing Stiles into someone else’s custody. Something told him when Stiles’s ride arrived, he’d be eager to see this place in the rearview mirror.

Jeffries was pacing in the hallway so Eric closed the door to the interview room on his way out. The last thing Stiles needed was Jeffries barking at him although Eric knew his boss was just concerned. It was nice to know his superior could feel remorse but it was also disconcerting to watch. Eric would be surprised if Jeffries ever drew a blood sample again after this debacle.

On his way back to the front desk, Eric thought about Stiles. He seemed like a nice kid, okay not a kid but still younger than Eric, and he was probably decent looking once you got past those eyes.

Eric knew he should start on the paper work associated with this incident but his over stimulated brain was bouncing from one topic to another. He tried sounding out Stiles’s real first name and guessing what his friend would look like, before turning his attention to the address on the driver’s license.

Stiles was from Beacon Hills. Eric knew the sheriff’s department was actively recruiting there after some sort of disaster. He should look into that possibility. 

Wait, the sheriff shared the same last name as Stiles. Were they related?

Eric grabbed Stiles’s belongings, eyeing the vial. What was up with that insect repellant? After causing the guy to pass out, Eric didn’t think it was in his best interest to run a test on the substance in the little container. 

There was something off about this whole situation but Eric didn’t know if that was because he felt culpable for the arrest gone awry.

Eric turned his attention to the forms he needed to fill out. Before he’d collected all of them, someone entered the building. The guy was tall and fit and moved with self-assurance but he had a look of deep concern about him.

He wasn’t into guys but there was a certain something about his guy despite the overbearing dark eyebrows. Come to think of it, Stiles had that same other-worldliness about him.

Oh yeah, if this guy was here to give Stiles a ride then there was something about him, about them, and Eric’s brain worked to connect the dots. 

The penny dropped. He was pretty certain he was looking at a shifter. According to some obscure sites on the internet, Stiles—no mention of his real first name—was involved in a fight with some paramilitary types and he had sided with supernaturals.

Eric didn’t put much stock in what he read on the internet but sometimes there was an ounce of truth embedded in the nonsense. He could easily believe the guy in front of him had supernatural powers. Stiles…not so much. 

He summoned a weak smile. He would remain vigilant and observe carefully. 

Applying for a job in Beacon Hills might be more than he could handle. Then again it might be the career, make that life change, he’d been considering.

 

Finis

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to experiment and write about the Beacon Hills world from an exclusive outsider POV. It was far more fun than I would've guessed although I returned to more traditional POV's for the next two stories.
> 
> If you're reading this, thank you for gambling on my little experiment!


End file.
